24. Niamh

Ihave never seen magic being worked up close. Even Day would never break that rule by showing me. I wouldn't expect him to.

A vamryrer's skill works in far different ways, more obvious ways. They can manipulate and convince. They can soften the hardest of hearts and charm the un-charmable.

Perhaps that explains his hold over me? I want it to. I crave a simple answer for the way my heart races around him and strains without him.

I am alive and breathing, my pain gone. But I don't feel right. At peace. I keep staring at the door he's disappeared through.

I keep waiting for this dream to end and the nightmare of reality to descend.

"Are you okay, honey?"

That's right. I am not alone. A beautiful woman crouches on the floor beside me, her smile wary, her eyes kind. But she is also uneasy, as she should be. She sees the danger lurking in Caspian's gaze.

She saw the damaged pieces of me.

She assumed he was the cause. He wasn't.

I try to say as much. "I…"

"Oh, don't try to speak yet." She winces, guilty. "My magic… How I healed you, it can be pretty intense. Your windpipe was broken and I, um, had to fix it." She wrings her fingers together as she lurches upright and begins to pace.

Watching her move, I am struck dumb by recognition. She isn't wearing robes. Not green or red, white or gray. She wears a brilliant blue tunic paired with blue pants. Pants.

She is wearing mortal clothing.

After noticing my stare, she stops short. She tugs at the sleeve of her tunic and frowns. "Well, let's get you out of those bloody clothes, hm? Then I can at least begin to explain. My name is Colleen, by the way."

She extends her hand and then awkwardly lowers it. "Ah, right. Let's get started."

* * *

Her name is Colleen.Not Day, Dawn, or Night. Not Caspian or a name that denotes a follower of another vamryrer master. Do the lunaria even have names? I'm not sure. If they do, they are monickers derived from their own language, older than the moon itself.

Her name is a mortal name, chosen for her specifically at birth. Colleen. So pretty. So foreign.

I am jealous.

She helps me stand and into a narrow closet. A bathroom, far different from the ones in the Citadel—not that I was ever allowed to use them. I had to relieve myself in a corner of the courtyard, but I didn't mind.

I didn't know what I was missing. Warm water on aching skin. A sweet-smelling liquid that seeps into my hair and makes it shiny and clean.

There is also the most magical novelty of all, a sheet of flat silver that changes color before my eyes. I step in front of it, and it displays the image of a woman with a familiar visage and dark eyes. She looks nothing like Day or Lord Master. Nothing like flawless Caspian.

But… when I raise my hand toward her, she copies me. Blinks alongside me. Gasps with shock at the same moment I do. Then another figure appears—the blond woman. But she's behind me as well, her lips forming a soft smile.

"I guess they don't have mirrors in the other realm, do they?"

I shake my head. Then nod. The mirror woman does the same. No… I do. My reflection.

"They do," I whisper, breaking her rule. It feels important to speak. To hear my own words in order to know that this moment is real. Real. "I've just never seen one."

"What a shame," Colleen says. "You're so pretty. But please, no speaking. I mean it. I would hate it if something went wrong with your healing, and I'd have to do it all over again."

She laughs.

I shiver at the memory of that pain. Her magic. A strange, fiery magic that tore me apart and then stitched me back together. I could feel it, like an uncertain hand testing various bones and tissues to see how to repair what.

"Thank you," I whisper.

She shakes her head. "Enough. Now, let's get you out of these filthy clothes."

She helps me strip my bloodstained robe. She then offers me new clothes, but they are not made of stiff material like I'm used to. There is a short tunic like hers, but of a heavier material and bright yellow—a sweatshirt, she calls it. Paired with it are sweatpants, also yellow.

I pull them on reverently and watch my reflection in the mirror. Objectively, they are the most beautiful garments I have ever seen, incomparable to Day's ceremonial robes, even. I can't stop fingering the hem of my shirt. Any high elder would be lucky to wear clothing such as these.

"The idiot vampire could have gotten you something flattering," Colleen mutters. She doesn't approve. "This will have to do for now. Maybe I can bring you some of my old things? You look to be about my size."

I can't contain my shock. And gratitude.

"Thank…" I swallow hard and then nod.

Frowning, Colleen holds up another object, left behind at the bottom of my pile of new clothing. It is small and made of black fabric with a long strap. A bag of some sort.

"I guess the vampire thinks you need a backpack?" She wrinkles her nose in disapproval and tosses the bag aside. "What an idiot!"

But he isn't. I lunge for the container and cradle it to my chest. Then I inch back into the room, searching, hunting for… I find it on a small table by the bed: a bundle of gray fabric, muddied and tattered, containing a single wilting rose and a sketchbook. Gingerly, I place the items inside the new bag and close it.

Instantly, my gratitude toward Caspian grows.

"Let's get you back to bed. I changed the sheets by the way," Colleen says from behind me. She gestures to the square surface I woke up on. It is small with a bed with sheets the color of sunlight. So beautiful.

I lay down tentatively. Luxuriously. Never could I have dreamt of such a bed. Such a place to rest in.

"I'll let you get some sleep," Colleen says, heading for a white door. "Goodnight."

Goodnight.

No one has ever wished me as much before.

No one.